“Please, ’cause you can’t cook for shit.”
“Like you can.”
“I’m not as bad as you.”
“No longer the case. I’ve been gettin’ lessons.”
“Who the fuck from? Ronald McDonald?”
“Adelyn’s taught me some stuff. I know how to make homemade pizza.” Well, maybe I could if I had the recipe for her crust. Which I don’t.
“I’ll believe that shit after I see it.”
“Okay. You’re on. Homemade pizza tonight. Got a Benjamin that says you’ll eat the hell out of it.”
“You’re on, fucker. I’ll bring chips and dip so we’ll have something to eat after you fail.”
“On.”
I know I don’t have bread flour. Or yeast. Or that special salt she used. I’m definitely making a grocery store run but I don’t want to forget anything.
Can you give me a list of the ingredients for the pizza crust?
Shit. The sauces. I forgot about that.
And the sauces.
I should ask for the instructions while I’m at it.
Hell, I need the entire recipe with all the steps. For everything.
That’s going to be a lot of typing. She’s swimming. She probably doesn’t want to stop to fuck with me about a recipe.
I know you’re busy w/ your friends. Maybe send me a pic of the recipe?
Dammit. She’s going to wonder how I know she’s busy with her friends.
No biggie. Just hanging by the pool. The list is pretty long so I’ll be over in a min.
Fuck. She’s coming over. I get to see her.
I don’t hate that.
Great. Thanks.
As promised, Adelyn is knocking on my kitchen’s French door in no time. “It’s open.”
Oh, hell. She’s wearing a thin white cover-up over my favorite black bikini. It’s wet so there are two damp circles over her chest, leaving very little to my imagination about what’s underneath. But of course, I’ve been lucky to see everything underneath. Touch it. Squeeze it. Suck it into my mouth. I don’t have to use my imagination.
“Hey. What’s up?” Her voice is soft. Her cheeks red. Her expression sheepish. I think she’s embarrassed about last night. But she shouldn’t be. I’m happy she came over. I’m happy she tasted like wine; I think it’s what made her brave enough to kiss me.
“Having Porter and Tap over tonight to watch the game. Thought I might show off my new ability to make homemade pizza. Except I don’t know how without a recipe.”
“Oh, fun. Got a notepad and pen I can use?”
I pull out the kitchen drawer where I keep stuff like that. My junk drawer. “Yup.”
She spreads her right arm on the counter and bends over so her left hand is wrapped around the notepad, writing on it from the top. “You’re left-handed.”
“Mmm . . . hmm.”
All the time we’ve spent together and I’m just now catching that.
She’s bent over my kitchen counter writing the recipe. Is she doing that to me on purpose? If she is or not, I don’t deny myself the view of looking at her perfectly outlined ass peeking through her wet cover-up.
All I’d have to do is ease down her bikini bottom and I could be buried deep inside her in probably five seconds. Six, tops.
“Get Bob’s Red Mill unbleached enriched artisan bread flour. Comes in a purple bag. Costs a little more but it makes the best crust.” She turns to look at me and catches me staring at her ass. “What brand did I say?”
She knows I was ogling. Not listening. “Purple Mill.”
“Bob’s Red Mill unbleached enriched artisan bread flour. Purple bag.” She lifts a brow. “Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” She goes back to writing the recipe on the notepad and my eyes return to roaming her body. They leave her ass and hesitate at her neck. So many thoughts gather in my head.
Could I hold her down by the throat?
Own her?
Control her?
Two weeks ago, I thought no. Not just no. Fuck, no. I wanted no part of that shit.
But today I feel differently.
I’ve had a little time to absorb the shock of it. I still don’t think I can choke her. It’s too violent. Brings back too many shitty memories. But could we try a subtler version of what she wants? Needs? Could she bend a little, if I did as well? And, together, we try to find a way for me to satisfy her needs while not exceeding my boundaries?
“It’s your first solo go at a pizza crust so call me if you have problems or questions. I don’t mind coming over if you need help.”
Fuck. I wish I could get her back over here after her company, and mine, leaves. “Don’t be surprised if you hear from me.”
“That’ll be okay.”
My eyes follow her neck to the curve of her shoulder. “You’re red.”
“Shocker.” She lifts her shoulder and pushes away the top of her cover-up and strap of her bikini to survey her skin. I’d love to keep pulling it down. “Hell, yeah, look at that. We’ve only been out for an hour, and I’m already burning. With sunscreen.”
“It doesn’t look too bad right now but be careful.” I was severely burned as a child. I still remember how painful it was. And how much Jimmy laughed about it. Told Lawry and me we were little idiots for playing outside in the sun all day.
We were kids. They were the idiots who never taught us what happened when you stayed in the sun too long.
Lesson well learned.
“I’m probably in the shade the rest of the day. I don’t want to risk a burn. ’Cause with me, it’s one of those things you don’t detect coming on. You figure it out after it’s too late.” I like the idea of her staying in the shade. A sunburn would definitely prevent any kind of get-together between the two of us later.
I take the notepad from the counter. “I guess I’m off to shop. I’m used to doing a bachelor sweep through the grocery store so it should be fun hunting down these ingredients.”
“It won’t be bad. The bread flour, yeast, salt, oil, and sugar are on the same aisle.”
“That helps.”
“I’d go with you if I didn’t have friends over. We haven’t hung out in a while so it would be really shitty of me to drop them.”
“It’s okay. It’s really nice of you to leave them to come over and help me.”
“They don’t mind. They encouraged me to come when you texted.” Shit. She didn’t . . . want to come over? Was last night their idea too? Have I misread this?
“Nice of them to share you with a bachelor in need.”
“They knew I wanted to come.” She crosses her arms, shielding my view of her bikini, and tits, through her wet top. Dammit.
“About last night.” She’s going to bring up the kiss? I hope so. I want to talk about it. “Umm . . . sorry I woke you. I didn’t realize how late it had gotten.” Not where I was hoping she was going with this.
“Don’t be. It was great of you to bring the wrench over. I would have been searching high and low for it the next time I work on the bike.”
Come on, Adelyn. Bring up the kiss. It’s the perfect introduction for the conversation I want to have about how we might explore this relationship.
“So, I guess I should get back to Jill and Kristin.”
No. Stay. “Right.” I hold up the recipe. “Thanks again.”
“No problem.”
Adelyn grasps the doorknob and hesitates. “What is it?”
“Last night.” She lowers her face so she isn’t looking at me. Embarrassed, maybe? Afraid? The thing I know for sure is her confidence is shaken. I’m the one who did that so it’s my job to fix it.
I don’t give her time to overthink it or second-guess her decision. “The kiss. I liked it.”
She doesn’t look back, but I see her biting her lip as a smile tries to break through. “Good. I liked it, too.”
That’s all she says before opening the door and leaving.
T
wo weeks ago she trusted me enough to show me who she was. Show me her dark side. And I rejected it. Rejected her. I hurt this woman who’s already been so incredibly wounded. She didn’t deserve that shit from me.
So now I have to start over with her. Backtrack. Gain her trust all over again so we can pursue the possibilities of us.
I have work to do.